


Cadge

by GreyLiliy



Category: Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Shattered Glass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike Witwicky worms his way into Goldbug's spark, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shattered Glass AU. Because I love the Witwickys. Specifically Spike. And this pairing. There's that, too.
> 
> Not going to lie. This is pretty much fanservice. For me. Though I welcome you to read it. :D

"You're Goldbug, right?"

The seeker remained still, his frame not giving away his shock. The Middle Witwicky child hovered near Goldbug's head, standing on a thick hanging chain. His yellow boots dug into the metal links as he leaned back like he was standing on a swing. The fourteen year old was wearing his 'Bomber Jacket,' Goldbug's database supplied: brown leather coat with a white furry collar that hung too loose on his frame. Goldbug hadn't heard the boy climb down the chain, nor noticed his approach.

_Sloppy_ , Goldbug thought to himself, as he stared optic to eye with this little human invader.

* * *

The Witwickys had been an odd, yet oddly welcome, addition to the Ark.

Sparkplug, Butch, Spike and Buster. Goldbug had memorized their names and personal histories on the first day. His old blackmailing days kept up Goldbug's drive to stay informed, and it wasn't every day your leader permitted a set of "Human Autobot Allies" to move into their sacred Ark.

Not that they didn't fit in, Goldbug relented.

If the Witwicky's had been Cybertronian, those four would have been right at home with the Autobots. Perhaps that's where their leader's curiosity toward them lied. Or maybe their Prime just liked having a set of pets around to remind everyone of their inferiority.

It had been hard to tell some days.

Odd as it was to be conscious of the organic creatures under foot the first few weeks, the Autobots adapted. The four humans wormed their way into the ranks like they had always belonged there, like parasites. Goldbug was caught between being impressed, and concerned by their effect on his peers when they started making requests, and getting them.

For example, Sparkplug had been near immediately absorbed into Wheeljack and Ratchet's bubble of madness. Goldbug didn't think it was possible for a human to be frightening, but with access to Wheeljack and Ratchet's equipment, Sparkplug was managing at least a base level of intimidation. He had suggested some project involving a hand-made Autobot no one wanted any part of, and somehow got Wheeljack's full support. And Goldbug shivered at the thought of the human assisting Ratchet in repairs.

Butch and Buster were less of a threat, tagging along behind Rodimus like ankle biting cassettes. The purple hot rod didn't complain about his additional posse, and rather, his ego had gotten worse lately from the constant affirmation from the Witwicky siblings.

Fourteen year old Spike Witwicky was the odd one out.

Optimus Prime had taken to him early on. Spike didn't so much as interact with their glorious leader, as he somewhat existed as a trophy piece. Goldbug found 'Pet' to be the best comparison for Spike's position with their grand and glorious leader. Spike could usually be spotted sitting on Prime's desk, waiting to be pet, or have his back rubbed absently while their Prime reviewed paperwork. On the rare occasion, Prime would carry him, or allow Spike the privilege of staying in the Prime's private quarters during recharge.

But one day, Prime had placed Spike on the ground and nudged the boy away without looking at him, and that had been that. Whatever amusement their Prime had gathered from the boy, it had been spent. Prime still pet Spike, or acknowledged him every so often, but for the most part, the boy had been free to wander.

So much time early on with Lord Prime made Spike a taboo around the Ark, Goldbug observed. No one wanted to touch something that 'belonged' to their Prime, whether he was being 'used' or not. But Spike was persistent, almost aggressively so. Eventually, he found company in an Autobot here or there in the same fashion as his family.

Most often, he was spotted going along with Hound or Trailbreaker on scouting missions. He bothered Mirage, and annoyed Jazz. When he pushed his luck too far with Goldbug's more dangerous peers, Spike would hang around his brothers or father as his shield. However, Spike didn't belong anywhere.

Until he caught Goldbug watching him.

* * *

"So are you?" Spike asked again, shifting on the chain so that he was hugging the one side.

"I'm fairly certain you already know the answer to that," Goldbug said. He clicked the last few bits of information into his report on Teletran. Finished, Goldbug strode away quickly, hoping to escape the boy's curiosity. Spike frowned, and yanked on another loose chain. It tumbled to the floor, and he transferred from one to the other to slide down to the floor. Goldbug heard the small tapping of feet follow up behind him. He sighed, "What are you doing?"

"I've seen you looking at me," Spike said. He tagged along Goldbug's side, with his arms behind his back. His wavy brown hair bounced on his head from the lift in his steps.

Goldbug pushed the boy aside with his foot. Spike fumbled, but not enough to fall over. He glared, and Goldbug asked, "What's your point?"

"Maybe I've been looking at you, too," Spike answered, brushing off his sleeves. He heaved himself up on a piece of pipe running along the corridor to give himself an extra foot or two of height. He wasn't optic-to-optic, but Spike's head came up to at least the same level as Goldbug's spark instead of his knee-joint. Spike turned around on the pipe and walked backwards to easier look up at Goldbug's visor. His yellow boots peeking out from under the dark blue jeans tapped heavily on the metal conduit. "You guys have intuition?"

Goldbug didn't humor the boy with an answer.

"I think you do," Spike said. He waved his finger back and forth between the two of them, and tilted his head to the side. It knocked a wave of hair in between his eyes. "You're too much like us humans to not get gut feelings about things."

"Is this going somewhere?" Goldbug asked. There was something twisting in his spark as he tried to figure out the kid's angle.  _What did he want?_

"I have a feeling about you and me," Spike said. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned back around to walk straight. A mischievous smile tugged at the side of his lips, and it made Goldbug wary in a way he hadn't felt since before the Ark crashed. Spike nodded toward Goldbug, and the feeling deepened. "A good one. My gut's telling me that we should hang out. We can be good for each other."

Goldbug stopped. He held his shoulders back straight, pulling up his full height over the boy. He looked spike eye to visor, and rumbled his engine. "And what created that feeling?"

Spike shrugged, and tapped the tip of his boot on the pipe. "Yellow's my favorite color."


	2. Chapter 2

Goldbug had a problem.

It had only been a month, but Spike Witwicky had burrowed into Goldbug's spark like one of those ticks that had attacked Spike after an overnight trip with Hound in the woods. Only Goldbug planned on keeping his little parasite, instead of using a pair of tweezers to rip the thing's head off after it was extracted from its burrow under Spike's skin.

The two of them fit together like it was the most natural thing in the world to have that small warm body taking residence in the front seat of Goldbug's alt mode.

Spike groaned, leaning on Goldbug's steering wheel like a dead weight. His arms were wrapped around the leather and metal spokes like a pretzel, gripping tightly to Goldbug like his world would be ripped away if he let go.

"Butch is such an idiot," Spike mumbled. His breath was heavy, and the scent of alcohol laced the edges. The emptied bottle of bourbon tipped over on the car floor as Spike shifted his foot. "I told him to stay away from that Astoria chick, and he didn't listen. 'Big Man Butch' had to hit on her anyway. I told him!"

"It sounded like he got what was coming to him," Goldbug said. He kicked his engine on and pulled out from his spot in the parking lot. He'd been 'off the clock,' so to speak, for about an hour when a stake out at a charity drive proved futile. The Deceptiwimps were a no-show, and Goldbug was calling it a night. And somehow, the brat Spike had talked Goldbug into making a liquor stop. Goldbug huffed, "I don't know why you seem to be so bothered."

"Ain't that the truth. He totally had that coming for being so stupid," Spike snorted. He shifted until his cheek rested on the wheel. His voice got small. "But, he's…he's family and shit. That's my big bro, Bee."

"Don't call me that," Goldbug growled, slamming on the breaks. The stop threw Spike forward, and he smashed his face into the wheel. The boy yelped, and fell back into the seat, moaning as he held his face. Goldbug sped up as he took the corner. "You're making me regret telling you my first name."

"Ow, take it easy," Spike said. He rubbed the side of his nose, before tapping the underside and looking at his fingers. Goldbug had no clue what he was checking for, but Spike slid down into his seat when he finished. He crossed his arms and dropped his head against the door. "'Goldbug's' a mouthful when you're drunk."

"Then don't get drunk," Goldbug said, matter of fact.

"My big brother got his arm ripped off because he wouldn't stop hittin' on Powerglide's girl," Spike said. He punched the door in a childish, and useless, effort to pay Goldbug back for the bruised nose. "I think I earned the right to get a little shit-faced."

"Ratchet's making him a new arm," Goldbug offered as a compromise.

Spike rolled over and crawled between the front seats to collapse in the back. He shrugged off his jacket, and shoved it in the corner as a pillow. Goldbug's back seat was cramped-Spike's head would hit the ceiling if he sat straight up-but Spike could fit if he laid on his back and curled up. It was snug, but he wouldn't get thrown around if Goldbug took a quick turn, either.

"That doesn't make it much better," Spike said, dropping his head on the jacket.

"I like to think a metal arm is an improvement," Goldbug hummed. Spike breathed in the back, seemingly in recharge. However, the boy shivered a second later in a violent shutter. Before he could help it, Goldbug asked, "Spike?"

"Powerglide ripped Butch's arm off like he was plucking a hair off a dog," Spike said. He pulled his foot in an inch, curling tighter around himself. His breath hitched, and his voice sped up as he started to ramble. "It was so easy. You saw it! There was blood everywhere, and he was screaming and trying to stop it and it kept coming out. I mean, we know you guys are bigger, stronger, and all that, but it doesn't really hit until you see it.

"Butch could'a died. Right there from blood loss. He could'a  _died_ , Goldbug.

"And over something as dumb as flirting." Spike shook his head, and dug his palms into his eyes sockets. "There's always been that threat of us getting squashed if we screw up or say the wrong thing ta' the wrong guy, but this is the first time someone's actually acted on it. It's like a big slap in the face how tiny I am, ya' know?"

"Lesson learned: Don't be stupid and keep your limbs," Goldbug huffed. "It's not that complicated."

"Yeah," Spike said, yawning into his hand. He tucked his hands into his sides, and pushed up against the back seat. Goldbug could feel his heart rate lower as he slowed down for recharge. The insignificant and vital heartbeat fluttered in his chest. "Do me a favor though."

"Oh?" Goldbug asked, amused at the boy's slurred words.

"If I do somethin' stupid," Spike said, eyes closed and breaths even. "Get ta' me first. I'd rather you do it, than one of those other guys. Won't be so bad if it's you…"

Spike fell asleep. Goldbug revved his engine as he picked up the pace back toward the arc. The road was rough under his tires and the living clump of meat in his back seat became infinitely more fragile. "Yeah. I can do that, Spike."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the last of what I had written. I have part of chapter 4 started, but I'm not sure I like where it's going. So unless there's a lot of interest, this is probably it for this fic. XD

"Looking for my bro?" Butch Witwicky asked.

Goldbug glared through his visor at the cocky human, and held his head higher. The metallic arm that'd had been the center of his charge's distress the week prior gleamed in the dim light. Ratchet had done good work, for a change. Goldbug had indeed been looking for Spike, but Butch didn't need to know that.

So Goldbug didn't answer.

"Fine, fine," Butch shrugged. He smirked in a way that was far too familiar to Goldbug's 'Boss,' and the kid's master. All Butch was missing was the mustache to match Rodimus' facial ornament. Butch tapped the top of his head with a finger. "Silent treatment, I got it. You don't like Rodimus, and he don't like you. Dislike by association."

"Did you need something, or are you just here to annoy me?" Goldbug asked.

"Just making the observation you and my bro have been tight," Butch said. He licked the edge of his lip, and scratched at the connection of metal to flesh at the top of his shoulder. "That's all. And since you're all by your lonesome, I figured you might be looking."

"I think you should go back to kissing Rodimus' aft," Goldbug said.

He walked past the smirking kid. How was that worthless little scratch related to Spike? He had nothing going for him, other than being a cocky little 'Yes Man.' At least Spike was useful company. Goldbug rolled out his shoulder at the turn. He had been hoping to get Spike to check out a loose bolt for him. Having a human with tiny hands and a bit of mechanic skills was saving him many, many nervous trips to Ratchet.

"He's with Lord Prime," Butch said out of the blue, though the smugness in his voice dripped out over every word. "Just so you know."

"Prime?" Goldbug said. He cursed to himself immediately after.  _Gave too much away._

Butch nodded in affirmation. He saluted with his metal hand, and walked away with the other in his pocket.

Goldbug kept walking. He shoved any worry he had down to the bottom of his spark and smothered it. Making a scene would be stupid for them both.

Goldbug didn't see Prime or Spike for the rest of the day.

* * *

The door to his hab-suite swished open, awaking Goldbug and all of his sensors. An intruder would't be the first to try and kill Goldbug in his sleep, and it wouldn't be the last. Goldbug was ready. He kept his optics off, and systems in a mock 'recharge state' to fool the intruder. He listened, and was impressed by the mech's silence.

Maybe it was Mirage. He had that sort of cloaking at his disposal.

The door swished shut again, trapping the intruder inside with the alert Goldbug. He turned the sensitivity level of all of his sensors to max, to catch any hint of approach. The footsteps were light and small...and very familiar.

"Spike?" Goldbug asked, flicking his optics on and leaning up to stare down at the floor.

He gripped the side of his berth, staring down at the tiny human. His spark picked up in his chest, relieved to see that small silhouette in his doorway in a way that should have been downright shameful. Autobots didn't make attachments to such things. But. Goldbug shook his head, and shifted to sit up.

"Don't bother getting out of bed," Spike said, shifted near the doorway. Goldbug settled back down as the kid tapped across the room. Spike huffed heavily as he climbed up onto the low berth via a small chain hanging off the side. He shuffled across the space between the edge of the berth and the mech, collapsing near Goldbug's chest with a wet thud. He snuggled up until he was a hair's distance from the warm metal, parallel to Goldbug's spark. "Go back to recharge."

Goldbug olfactory sensors picked up blood, and he could see a dark patch of something wet spread from around the tiny body. He switched his optic mode and looked over his charge: Spike's clothes were soaked in the human energon. "Spike—"

"It's not mine," Spike said, cutting off Goldbug with a tired voice. He turned and rested his head in his arms. "Not Buster or Butch's either."

Goldbug hissed, "What happened with Prime?"

"You'll find out tomorrow," Spike said, his voice a whisper. Goldbug struggled to hear the restrained words. Spike drew his knees in close, and started to trail a picture in the blood with his hand. Spike sighed, "He wants it to be a surprise."

Goldbug held his hand out, hovering over the shaking boy. "But—"

"Please," Spike begged, eyes wide and voiced hitched. He pulled his arms up over his head, and rolled toward Goldbug. He was a miserable lump of flesh, and Goldbug wondered how such a thing could twist his spark. "I just want to go to sleep."

Against his better judgement, Goldbug turned on his side. He used a hand to cup the little creature near his chest, and gently rubbed the boy's shoulder and side with his thumb. Spike breathed out, the air shaky but relieved. The boy's breathing evened in time with Goldbug's petting, and he was asleep within a few seconds.

Goldbug shoved down his anger as he hid Spike away under his hand. He could never challenge the Prime for this, but Goldbug guaranteed someone would suffer for this.

He was in so much trouble.


End file.
